


Holding Together

by Naeshira



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, minor non-descriptive mention of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naeshira/pseuds/Naeshira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "The Haus has not always been called the Haus but it is called that now and it fits very well. The house that is now called the Haus knows the young ones protected by its walls are vulnerable and precious. Haus will hold together for their sakes." A short fic about the history of the Haus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Together

She used to be new and bustling and full of activity. She was full of girls shouting and laughing and she always smelled vaguely of alcohol and flowery products. She was happy as a house could be, with only a broken thermostat on the upper floor that posed any danger.

But one night, early in the semester, she was crowded. Too crowded. There was alcohol in the attic and girls flooding in the front door. Many pairs of heels clicked across her hardwood, until people were running. And falling. And then… then there was a scream.

The quiet left behind was eerie, she’d never been that still. Only two girls remained, unmoving at the bottom of the attic stairs. Large men in uniforms and heavy boots stomped around. There was no more laughter.

For years after that, she became home to a motley crew of species. A family of raccoons moved in, along with several squirrels, and a large snake. Birds made nests in her rafters. A fox crawled under the porch and had kits. But there were no more girls. No more people at all.

~

Until one day a group of young men forced the door open and sent spiders scurrying away across the wall. ((“This will be perfect!” “We’ll fix it up and make it habitable.” “Jonesy, you’re into DIY shit, right?” “We still have to convince the team to pay for this dump.” “I call dibs on this room!”))

Slowly she began to fill up again. But if a house could be worried, then her banisters were veritably shaking with nerves. Now it was much more than just the broken thermostat that could hurt her new inhabitants. There were unsteady beams, and wild animals, and something ugly growing behind the ceiling of the den.

But the boys took care of it. Took care of her. As much as they could. The beams were fixed, the animals chased out, and the mold removed. The thermostat they attempted to fix, but it had been broken for so long there was no helping it.

And so she became the Hockey Haus. She was full of boys now, loud and raucous, far smellier than her girls had ever been. But there was laughter again. And parties. And quiet nights where one radio would be singing from one boy’s room while they all studied. And the Haus began to feel like a house again.

~

It had been quite some time since she smelled of anything other than hockey bags and alcohol. It had been even longer since her oven had created something other than pot brownies and the burnt lump of a failed birthday cake. But this? With four pies over the course of a month, a single boy had brought the Haus inhabitants to a standstill. And then the little baker moved in, and the smell of fresh-baked pastries never seemed to leave.

The Haus still worries about parties. Her girls, the two who never left, do what they can but she still holds herself tighter when the number of drunken students rises. It seems every spilt solo cup of alcohol makes her porch steps creak in fear.

After they’ve all cleared out, she’s grateful for the one or two boys who rouse the others, collapsed and hungover on the floor. But it’s not until the next day, when her little baker is making his wonderful food, that she lets herself relax. She settles, wood creaking and cracking in her old age, soaking up the smell of an apple pie.

She is no longer new, but she is bustling and full of activity. Her boys are shouting and laughing, and she always smells vaguely of hockey bags and baked goods. She is as happy as a Haus can be, with only a broken thermostat on the upper floor that poses any danger. It’s these days that the Haus knows she’s a home.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages ago but just remembered that I haven't posted it yet. Whoops! Anyway, I really enjoy writing from the perspectives of non-sentient objects. Prompt came from headspacedeficit on tumblr. Hope you guys enjoyed!


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